


It Tasted of Regret

by Lilsciencequeen



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Adorable FitzSimmons (Agents of SHIELD), Crack, F/M, Fitz is so good to Simmons, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Sci-Ops Era (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Vomiting, always helping her, but not a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6345778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsciencequeen/pseuds/Lilsciencequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jems?” he asked, voice laced with concern when he answered the phone. “Everything okay?”</p>
<p>“No,” she said. There was something in her voice. It sounded as though she were in pain.</p>
<p>“Jemma, what’s wrong?” Fitz was already turning of the TV and putting on his shoes, wondering where he left his car keys. “Jems, please tell me.”</p>
<p>“I don’t feel well,” she murmured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Tasted of Regret

**Author's Note:**

> So, one Friday me and my friend went for milkshakes, and one thing lead to another and I could not conquer the hill going home, so we got a lift home from my mum, and it inspired me to write this. I really hoped that you enjoy this!

It was late in the evening when his phone rang, he was already in his pyjamas. He sighed, wanting nothing more than to try and watch the next couple of Supernatural that he had missed. He could only watch them when Jemma wasn’t around. No matter how hard that he tried, he couldn’t seem to get her to like it, so the only time that he was really able to watch it was when she wasn’t there. He reached for the phone, seeing that it was Jemma who was calling.

“Jems?” he asked, voice laced with concern when he answered the phone. “Everything okay?”

“No,” she said. There was something in her voice. It sounded as though she were in pain.

“Jemma, what’s wrong?” Fitz was already turning of the TV and putting on his shoes, wondering where he left his car keys. “Jems, please tell me.”

“I don’t feel well,” she murmured.

“Where are you?” he asked already out of the door, only just remembering to lock it behind him.

“The bank,” she asked before she groaned.

Fitz’s heart broke for her. He hated that she sounded like that. “The one on first?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Can you be quick? Please. People are starting to stare.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ll be there in five, okay?” as he reassured her, he missed a step and almost fell down the rest of the stairs. Thankfully he managed to catch himself and ran out past the receptionist, who called a hello after him, and down the stairs to the underground parking lot.

For a Friday evening, the town was not that busy and Fitz was able to get to where Jemma was with little difficulty.

He found her sitting with her back against the wall of the bank, knees drawn up to her chest, her head bowed. “Jemma?” he asked, approaching her. She looked up, face pale. She smiled up at him, taking a deep breath before she stood up. “What’s the matter?”

She reached out, grabbing for his arm with one hand and wrapping the other around her stomach. “I don’t feel well,” she said, closing her eyes, looking as though she were concentrating on something. A moment later, she looked at him again, smiling. “Ready?” she asked, walking towards the car.

Fitz stumbled after her, pulling open the door for her. “You sure?”

“Fitz,” she said in that tone she always used with him. “I just ate too much, that Chinese, for lunch. Me and Darcy went out. Then on the way home,” she shook her head in disbelief. “Then I got a milkshake.”

Fitz just looked at her before closing the door and climbing into the car himself. “Jems, did you really try and walk home the whole way while feeling ill?”

She shrugged, her gaze now focused out the window. “If I don’t speak…” she began, not needing to continue. Fitz knew what she meant, Fitz always knew what she meant.

He nodded, and gained a bit more speed, wanting to make the short journey home even shorter.

Upon parking in their garage, having spent the rest of the journey in silence, Jemma climbed out of the car, and took off, leaving Fitz behind her to lock the car.

For someone who was ill, Jemma sure could move fast. Fitz found himself jogging to keep up with her. “You okay?”

Jemma hands on knees nodded and then…

When she stood back up, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she gave him a small smile. “I made it to the door?” She raised her shoulders, then kicked off her shoes, and gave a soft “oh” as Fitz lifted her up bridal style.

Having buzzed them in, Fitz cursed the elevator for never working, and told Jemma, despite her protests, that it didn’t matter, that she wasn’t well. That he was going to look after her, as that’s what friends were for, wasn’t it?

By the time that they reached their apartment, Jemma had her arms draped around his neck, her face buried in his cardigan. She took a breath, taking in both air and his scent. The faint smell of chemicals masked by a cologne. She smiled when she heard the lock click and felt him walking again. Though her eyes were closed, just by the path he took, she could tell that he was guiding her to the bathroom. He set her down on the cold tile floor, lifting up the lid of the toilet for her. She wanted to smile at him, thank him for his help but her stomach gave another twist and she couldn’t.

After removing her coat, she felt him rubbing gentle reassurances into her shoulders. And once she could look up, she gave him that smile, seeing the concern laced in his eye and she nodded, reassuring him that he was okay.

He passed her a damp facecloth, allowing her to wash her face properly, before offering her a glass of water, both of which were accepted with thanks.

“I’ll get you something to wear, yeah?” he offered, and though she could do it herself, she didn’t want to. She wanted him to help so she let him stand first, and took the hand that he presented her with and allowed herself to be raised, and laced her fingers in his, giving him a reassuring squeeze that told him that she was okay, that he was making it all okay.

In her room, he was looking in her drawer, and joking that she had far too many of his tops, and when he picked one (an old battered Doctor Who one) he turned to find her standing in nothing but her underwear. He felt a blush forming in his cheeks, but he had seen her in that before, in one of the decontamination showers that they had had to take when in the lab from adding one chemical too many.

He threw it too her, and she caught it, pulling it over her head, the bottom coming just half way down her thigh.

She sighed, crawling into bed and curling up. “Where?” she asked as he made to leave.

“The bathroom,” he explained. “For a towel in case…” he began, and then realising that there was a confused look on her face, he explained further. “In case you’re sick again, makes it easier to clean.”

She nodded in understanding and watched him leave, feeling an ache inside of her stomach, and not because she was ill.

Lifting her head up when he re-entered, he was able to tuck the towel under her head and as she turned to leave, she reached for his hand, grabbing it on a spur of the moment. He stopped and looked at her, his blue eyes soft, full of concern and full of oh so much love.

“Stay,” she whispered, and he nodded. She smiled back, one that reached her eyes and he felt his heart melt at that sight. He sat down on the bed beside her, reaching for the laptop that she always kept under her bed. Jemma was lying down, but now she had adjusted herself, so she was in a sprawled positon, half lying on him.

“I think I’m in love with you,” she said, and she felt a sudden something feel the room. “I think I’m in love with you,” she repeated, the words new and unfamiliar in her mouth but she wanted them to be familiar, something that could be said all the time.

He looked down at her, saw fear etched on her face, fear that she had went too far, and that she had crossed a fine line between friends and something more than that, lab partners and something else, roommates and soul mates.

He smiled down at her, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “Forgive me,” he began, “if I don’t kiss your lips, it’s just…”

“Ugh, Fitz,” she exclaimed rolling her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong. It’s gone now… just the after taste…”

He closed his eyes, laughing and placed a kiss on her forehead, allowing his fingers to dance along her back. She gave a soft sigh.

“I think I’m in love with you too, Jemma Simmons.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this slightly icky, slightly crack, kinda fluff was based on what happens when I try and walk home on a full stomach. Except it was my mum who gave us a lift home, and I spent all night listening to Welcome to Night Vale, and I'm single... so.... But it wasn't all bad, I found my necklace charm I thought I had lost, so yay? Thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed this.  
> Marvel owns all.


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